Mourning Breaks
by Ladon's Breath
Summary: The Doctor has just lost another companion, so he sets off in hope of a new adventure to dull the pain. This story is constructed like an episode of Doctor Who.


**AN:** This is set after Season 4 of New Who, but could probably be read by anyone. Spoilers are very, very minimal and only in the first line.

* * *

The lonely time traveler entered his familiar blue box. He had just lost another companion, not to an alternate dimension this time, but memory loss. It had been necessary to wipe her mind; her human brain could not possibly sustain a time lord's infinite intellect. Even so, it hit him hard, like a car crash. No matter how many times this happened he would still remember how much it hurt every single time. He didn't know why he always attached himself so much, why he opened himself up to the inevitable pain mortals would eventually give him.

The Doctor shook himself out of such negative thoughts as he stroked the many panels of his beautiful time machine, the TARDIS. She had stayed with him when no one else had. When the grief of being the last time lord was too much and mourning for his clan overwhelmed him, the TARDIS was there. No companion could be as faithful as she, but she was not the same as a human by his side, a hopeful human to whom every scene was new and time travel had once been just a fantasy.

The Doctor sighed as he flipped switches, searching for a time and place that could make things seem a little less bleak. He could drown himself in the alcohol of New New York, but sobbing in a bar wasn't really his style. Something happier would be better, someplace he would not be lonely. Suddenly, inspiration struck; he would travel to France.

"The French do know how to party after all," the time lord said to no one. "Ah, that time in Versailles with Louie XV, Reinette, and Rose—" The Doctor's commentary ground to a halt as he remembered one of his lost friends. "Time heals all wounds. Now that's a notion I can certainly prove false. Lessens them, yes, but there's no cure for mourning, not even immortality," he muttered darkly as he set the dials for Versailles, 1744. The characteristic sirens of the TARDIS signaled its exit from 2009. Lights flashed as the Doctor scrambled to pull levers and turn wheels on the machine meant for six operators. To finish off his duties that kept the TARDIS heading the right direction, the time lord picked up a hammer and promptly beat one of the panels mercilessly. "Useful and a good stress-reliever," said the Doctor as he stepped toward the exit without bothering to change out of his pinstriped suit and brown duster. Blue double doors were quickly pushed open to reveal some dirty streets filled with people rushing to and fro. The time lord frowned and commented, "Must not have hit her hard enough," because this was not Versailles.

The Doctor wandered down the crowded streets as vendors shouted for the attention of the crowds. "Mourning the loss of a loved one?" one questioned as another yelled, "I'll get you the money you deserve!" Numerous attempts to advertise products assaulted the time traveler's ears in ever increasing volume. Soon he managed to snatch the attention of a citizen who was obviously just trying to ignore all the vendors on her way somewhere.

"Madame is this Paris?" the time lord asked. The woman impatiently replied in the affirmative before trying to push past him. However he still had another question. "What's the date?"

"It's May 8, 1794. Now leave me alone; I've an execution to watch," she answered while giving him a poisonous glare. The woman marched away, but the Doctor followed her. If his grasp of history was as strong as he thought, then this was not where he wanted to be. He turned the corner only to be proven right. This was the Place de la Révolution and the guillotine was exactly where it ought to be. He was in the Reign of Terror, one of the least positive locations in history, and it seemed someone important was being executed. The blade of the guillotine dropped, beheading some poor soul, while a group of women mourned him on the edge of the square. The Doctor ambled over and commented over one of the girl's shoulders, "You know crying over him here may get you executed yourselves."

The girl jumped and spun toward him in surprise while one of the older women in the group reprimanded him saying, "This was Antoine Lavosier, one of the greatest minds of our time, and he's been executed. It's a great loss for our country." The Doctor raised an impressed eyebrow at the group's reason for distress.

"The thrice three Muses mourning for the death of Learning, late deceased in beggary," the time traveler said as he thought, "A dark topic fitting for my own mindset."

"Ah, Shakespeare. You're a man after my own heart, monsieur," replied the woman. "I'm Thalia and these are my eight sisters. But who might you be?"

"The Doctor, madame."

"The Doctor! Your reputation precedes you. Well, then may I be so bold to introduce the muses of Plusia 5: Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, and Urania." Thalia motioned toward one of her sisters as she said each name, but the Doctor was not so interested in that.

"And what exactly are 51st century muses doing in 18th century France?" he asked.

"Trying to save knowledge, although we obviously have not been too successful. We wish to remove Robespierre from office so we may save a few of the numerous scientists, artists, and authors he will kill."

"A noble effort to be sure, but changing history isn't exactly smiled upon."

"Who knows, we may simply be the tools history uses to end this terror. Besides which Clio would never let us mess history up." A shy looking girl clutching a thick book waved at the Doctor as he considered this reasoning. From what he knew of the muses they were unlikely to cause trouble. After all, they were lovers of knowledge and of time. Their entire race was devoted to learning and preserving such information.

"Well, girls, if you need any help feel free to ask, but I happen to have a request," the time traveler began. "Would you mind putting me up for a bit? I'd rather not stay in the TARDIS all night and I could use a bit of company."

"We'd be happy to take care of you time lord, especially if you'd be kind enough to teach us a thing or two," replied Thalia with a smile. Then, she slipped her arm through his and led him off to a decent house where he slept, something he had not done in a while. The muses were nice and they seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, but there was something wrong here. In the three days he had spent with the muses a dozen more scientists, artists, and authors had been killed. The girls mourned each loss and they did go to the Committee to argue for the unlucky victims. However their efforts seemed to be in vain, for more and more men were being killed, instead of less. There was definitely something else going on here which meant time had yet again conspired to throw him into one of its discrepancies.

One night Calliope entered the Doctor's room. He kept his breathing slow as the girl leaned over him, but she soon left with assurance of his sleep. The time lord found this exceedingly strange and watched out his window as four of the muses left the house. The next night after the sisters had exited the house, the Doctor followed them. They entered a different building and climbed a set of stairs until they reached a lit room. Within a finely dressed Frenchman sat in anticipation of the muses' arrival.

"Calliope, Polyhymnia, and Melpomene how are you?" said the man. "But where is Erato?"

"Let mourning shews be spread for love is dead, all love is dead," replied Melpomene negatively. "She's decided she's being used by you, Robespierre, presumptuous trollop that she is." The tragic muse was obviously angry with her sister's betrayal, but Robespierre was simply saddened by it,

"That's a disappointing loss. We ought to mourn her exit rather than resent it." The Frenchman sighed sadly before moving on to business. "Now girls I was wondering if you'd found any new information for me. I'd had no idea Lavosier was such an anti-revolutionist before you told me so. It's very important that we remove all obstacles to the revolution, otherwise France could end up with a new monarchy!"

The Doctor had heard enough. It seemed not all the muses wished to preserve knowledge, instead a few of them were attempting to destroy it. "But why?" he questioned aloud. Every muse was devoted to learning; it was in their bones, in their blood. They should have a deep aversion toward the deaths of such intelligent beings. It was a crime against nature for the muses to betray knowledge, a crime that would warrant the worst deaths in their own law books. Their laws stated that one would be utterly burned with fire all over the premeditated destruction of a library. The immorality of their actions in their own culture called for the double the punishment and a great deal of mourning for such a loss. So how could these three girls possibly be causing the deaths of such amazing minds?

The Doctor muttered to himself as he walked down the stairs of the house. Something was terribly wrong here, but what was it? And why couldn't his infinite intellect figure it out? Before the time lord could think about it longer, his arms were restrained and the hard barrel of a gun was jammed between his shoulder blades.

"You are under arrest, monsieur," called Robespierre at his captive. "I'd suggest not talking next time you feel like eavesdropping, if there is a next time." The French soldiers turned the time lord around so their commanding officer could see his face. The three muses glared at the time traveler while Robespierre simply evaluated the oddly dressed man.

"I regret Doctor that you have gotten yourself involved in this situation. It would be a waste to lose such intelligence, but it's obvious that you wish to destroy the revolution," said Calliope in a voice far too sweet for her words. "I think we've found yet another victim for the guillotine." Robespierre nodded pompously in agreement as if the entire concept was his idea and ordered to soldiers to lock the time traveler away. As they marched him off to his cell, Robespierre could barely be heard saying something about how he had never trusted doctors.

The next morning the time lord was sitting patiently in his cell. He had attempted to unravel this strange plot, but his musings had come to no fruition, so he had turned to one of his favorite occupations: the dictionary. Seeing as such reading material would not be provided, the Doctor was using his own memory to go through the alphabet. He had just reached mourning, the act of a person who mourns, which he had to admit was rather redundant. He was whispering the etymology, "Derived from murnung, an Old English noun, in use before the year 900," when a pair of soldiers appeared.

"Hello gentlemen!" the time traveler said cheerfully as they handcuffed his hands together. The men did not reply to their chatty prisoner who continued to speak about the revolution. But he soon took on a conspiratorial tone as he brought up the muses. "So what do you two think about those sisters who are always mourning the executed?"

The younger of the pair ventured to reply on this subject. "They're rather odd. We'd usually arrest them too, but Robespierre said the crying is all an act. I think he's just favoring them because a few of them offered to fix up the guillotine." The older soldier elbowed his subordinate into silence as the gears in the Doctor's head began turning. It all made sense now.

"Am I to be executed?" he asked his escorts.

"Yes," replied the elder brusquely.

"How very lucky! It's the perfect opportunity to inspect the equipment," muttered the time lord while the younger guard made a motion indicating how crazy their prisoner was. They eventually reached the square where the execution would take place. The nine muses were at their usual spot by the edge of the square. Terpsichore, dressed in black, sat beside an empty coffin and sang a traditional mourning song. It was a bleak scene for the bleak deaths that had occurred. Names were scribbled on the pine box and as the Doctor passed he noticed Thalia was writing his own name.

"That's not necessary," he told her before he was dragged up the stairs to his doom. As the time lord stood before the wooden device his sharp brown eyes examined it. Flashing quickly over its structure, they soon noted a small metallic panel nailed to an inner panel of the guillotine. The closer look afforded by his march forward proved the Doctor's suspicions right. "Excuse me sirs," he muttered as he slipped a chained hand into his pocket to grab his sonic screwdriver. With this futuristic tool he unlocked the cuffs and rushed to the metal addition on the guillotine. "Now if I can just reverse the direction," he chanted anxiously while his slender fingers flew over the buttons upon the panel. A flash of light blinded those in the square as a great number of people appeared. All the scientists, authors, and artists who had been killed were now standing in the middle of the site of their deaths, very much alive. The soldiers stopped trying to apprehend the Doctor as everyone else stood, staring in shock at the resurrected dead.

"What's going on here?" Thalia demanded as she took the lead in the situation.

"Perhaps a few of your sisters would be so kind to oblige us with an explanation," the Doctor responded. "Melpomene? Calliope? Polyhymnia? Or perhaps the one who felt guilty, Erato?" After pausing for a moment with no reply the time traveler continued. "You have nothing to say for yourselves?"

"Alas! The gratitude of men hath oftener left me mourning," answered Melpomene icily. "You are unappreciative time lord! If you only understood our plan."

The Doctor paused momentarily before asking Thalia, "Does she always start her conversations with strange quotes?" The muse nodded in return and the time lord accepted that answer before addressing Melpomene. "Even if humans are ungrateful they have no reason to thank you. You've stolen some of their greatest minds from them and all for your own benefit." The time lord walked closer to the muse as he continued to theorize. "Using the guillotine was rather ingenious, I must say. A malfunctioning teleportation device which leaves a physical corpse of a person behind is perfect when the people transported are supposed to be dead. However there's one part I don't understand. You want the minds for yourself, but what does it matter? You'll still get all this knowledge eventually. Humanity doesn't hide its ideas from you so why 'kill' all these innocent people?"

"Because we should be the most advanced race!" said Polyhymnia. "Humans surpass us with their imaginations. We may have all the logical facilities necessary to build a teleport and the creativity to write epic poetry, but we can never combine the two. You humans don't even notice how lucky you are. You take it all for granted and yet you still manage to gain more information than the muses." The girl stared angrily at the confused Frenchmen around her while the Doctor calmly nodded in understanding.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't allow you to mess with history this way," he began, but he was soon interrupted by Calliope.

"And how do you plan to stop us time lord?" she asked derisively. "We can always come back some other time and you can't stop us."

"But I can," replied Clio as she pulled a cube out of one of her pockets. She pressed the button on its side and tossed it toward her four treasonous siblings who were sucked within it in moments. "Portable library," she explained. "Although I'm going to have some problems if they decide to destroy my texts." The muse of history frowned at that thought, but brightened as she added, "At least they won't be destroying history."

"That's the attitude Clio," the Doctor said cheerfully as he tossed his arm around the girl's shoulders. "You've done more for history with that move than you ever could've done recording it." Clio blushed at the praise while Thalia looked shocked.

"They betrayed knowledge for personal gain," she said in an emotionless monotone. "They committed a grievous sin to advance the race before another. I can't believe it. My own kin did this." The Doctor took Thalia by the hand and led her out of the square while the rest of the muses followed. The Frenchmen stared after them, but soon turned their attentions to their recently returned countrymen.

"Thalia, I've seen much worse in this great universe," said the time traveler to comfort the girl. "I know that what they did is terrible, but at least they were stopped and remember without one of your other sisters they may have gotten away."

Thalia put on a brave face and smiled at the Doctor. "You have a point time lord. Besides which I shall be certain they are punished when we return to our own planet."

The Doctor winced as images of the likely sentences for the traitorous muses came to his mind. "I'm sure you will," he replied with distaste. "And I assume you won't mind if I take this with me?" The time lord held up the panel which had created the teleport.

"Oh, yes feel free to take it. We have our own proper transportation," said Thalia. "And thank you Doctor," she added with a smile. "I hope we meet again."

"I wish the same to you all. You are fine specimens of your race, especially little Clio there." He grinned at the muses and waved goodbye before walking back to the TARDIS. "How are you old girl?" he asked his time machine as he entered her cavernous depths. She was surprisingly large considering her small outer appearance. The TARDIS did not reply; she rarely did. But the Doctor knew she was listening all the same. "You know the Reign of Terror did wonders for my depression," he commented. "How odd. Perhaps I ought to consider dismal history more often." The time lord laughed as his machine took off to yet another destination. Hopefully this time he would hit his ship hard enough to get where he intended.


End file.
